Chapter 6: Talk It Out
I forgot to mention this in a previous chapter, but Finbar is not an OC. I borrowed him from the Skulduggery Pleasant book series. I was planning on using some standalone jokes from the series until I realized they weren't quite as standalone as I had thought, so . . . I'm just going to use him as a somewhat vague background character. But at least he'll still come in handy for plot development!
Pink Lemonade: I'm glad the foreshadowing is coming through! This is my first time really trying to write something with (hopefully) solvable clues. Feel free to call me out if anything ever contradicts!
Em jeet: Gosh, I hadn't meant for those end notes to be ominous, but now that you mention it . . . ;)
Peter entered his house from a long day of school, throwing his backpack onto the floor and reflecting on how contradicting his life was.
He wasn't allowed to go on patrol or attend training today because of his fractured rib. Doctor Connors had figured out a while ago that super-fast healing did the job almost too fast, only healing the area enough to allow for proper function. So while the really serious cuts, bruises, and fractures looked like they were entirely healed within hours, they really weren't. Broken bones weren't whole for a good 24 hours or more depending on severity of the injury.
And that was why Peter was forced to take yet another night off, even though the lack of action was starting to get on his nerves. Honestly, he had only been back for a single day!
But, on the other hand, he still had to go to school because it would be too suspicious if he called out sick every day after Spider-Man was injured. Peter understood there was a major difference in the level of physical activity between the two, but it just felt like one of those double standards things. How could they expect him to deal with high school when they didn't think he could deal with overexerting himself? High school was tough in its own ways.
Not to mention Sam always boasted about how he wouldn't have to listen to Peter for the entire day. He even went so far as to literally ignore Peter for the full day.
No matter how hard Peter tried to be nice, Sam always managed to find new ways to get under his skin.
But in the end, Peter was outvoted on the issue of what he could and couldn't do when 'healing' (really, he felt fine, and he had never let it stop him back when he had been solo). May agreed with Shield's policies wholeheartedly.
On the bright side, at least there were two perks to being home today. One: he could spend more time with Phoebe. And two: May wasn't going to make him clean the basement today like she had originally planned.
"Hello, Peter," May greeted him brightly as he came into the kitchen. "How was school today? Did you get your grades back?"
Peter smiled proudly, showing her the paper. "98! I would have had the highest score, but I forgot to add the units in one part and Ms. Pulgey always takes off points for that no matter how accurate my answers are. Ava beat me by a measly half a point."
"Oh, that is so awful," May said sarcastically. She rolled her eyes as she kneaded some dough on the counter. "You must feel so defeated."
"I do, though," Peter insisted. "This is the sixth time she gets just a little more than me. I shouldn't have fallen for such a simple mistake."
May waved a floury hand. "You'll get over it."
"But this really is serious! I'm going to have to fight for the title of valedictorian this year!" As he spoke, Peter pulled a small plastic container out of his back pocket. He opened it before carefully removing his new veneers. No matter how hard he tried, his fangs always flexed out when he did that. It was just such a relief to free them of the plastic. Since his fangs were no longer fixed in place, it did make sense that he would feel cramped by trying to keep them still all day. But just because he understood why he felt that way didn't make it any better.
And he couldn't help but notice how his aunt kept her gaze fixed on the dough the moment she noticed what he was doing.
Looking away from her, he rinsed the veneers in the sink before placing them in the container.
"Don't worry about that title," May said, continuing her work. "You've won it how many years now? Four?"
"Five," Peter admitted sheepishly.
"And now you're a superhero in your spare time. I'm still so impressed that you've been able to keep your grades up despite everything."
"Well, some of the heroes have helped me out. Captain America gave me a whole lecture on history once if you would believe that. Iron Man gave me a crash course in advanced robotics a few weeks ago. And Doc Connors is always happy to answer any questions I have about biology."
May looked at him now, her face pleasantly surprised. "Really? Well, I'm going to have to send them 'thank you' cards."
"Whatever you do, do not send the bunny ones."
"How about the puppy ones?"
"No, definitely not."
"But you were the one who picked those out."
"When I was ten! I didn't even know you had some left!"
"There's a few leftover, and they're so perfect too! All the puppies are dressed up like the Avengers and the back even has a kitten dressed like an alien and—"
"Please just no," Peter practically begged. May smirked.
"Oh, all right. I'll just send those plain old ones."
"Or none at all . . ."
"Nice try." May turned her head as she recalled something. "By the way, Peter, I need your help with something."
Peter frowned. "I thought we weren't going to clean out the basement tonight."
"You're not, but I wanted to get a head start looking through some boxes. But there's some huge spider webs on the top shelf with absolutely gigantic spiders. I can't quite reach them, so I was hoping you could get rid of them for me."
Peter's heart skipped a beat when she said there was a huge spider, but since she wasn't freaking out about it, he figured she probably wasn't referring to Phoebe. Phoebe was much too large for anyone to believe she was native to New York. "Okay, sure. Which shelf?"
"You know the big book shelf in the right corner? I tried using a broom, but one of the spiders started trying to climb down the handle." May shuddered.
"Aw, come on." Peter laughed. "You can't be afraid of spiders when you spend so much time with me."
"I'm not afraid. They just feel so icky. Besides, you're not really a spider."
Peter swallowed, licking his lips. "Well, I am part spider."
"True, but you're mostly human."
That was debatable, Peter almost wanted to say. But Dr. Connors hadn't finished computing the new numbers, so he really didn't know. Yet even the old ratio probably wouldn't have pleased May. When Peter first joined Shield, Connors had found 42% of his DNA was spider based.
But then, that meant he was probably well over 50% spider now, or would be soon . . .
"Right, um—I'll just go clean those webs up, then." Peter shoved his veneers back in his pocket and headed for the basement.
"My hero," May called after him fondly.
Peter didn't respond. His throat felt tight as he descended the steps.
The webs really were big, and so were the spiders that May had spoken of. Peter stood in front of the book shelf, staring up at them while he tried not to feel upset at his aunt for the first time in . . . forever, really.
Technically speaking, he was as related to the spiders in those webs as he was to his aunt upstairs, and she acted like she wanted to forget that. A few days ago, Peter would have agreed with her, but with the week he had had . . .
He kept thinking that. 'The week'. He kept blaming everything on 'the week' or 'his jungle adventure'. And although those recent events had certainly exasperated his problems, they hadn't started them. As Peter's team had (so helpfully) pointed out yesterday, a lot of his spider traits dated back to the initial spider bite. This had been a part of him for a long time, and it wasn't going away anytime soon. Doctor Connors had already proven that genetic modification was way too risky.
But he had to admit, he had had about a year to get used to his new anatomy. His aunt had only had less than two months. It was only natural that she might be having some trouble fully accepting his changes, especially now that there was the possibility of new changes.
Yet he had been telling himself that for several days now, and May still seemed to be avoiding the subject of his spider side . . .
Peter pushed that train of thought out of his head, focusing back on his current duty. But then another idea popped into his head, one that had also been bugging him all week.
Could he talk to all spiders, or just Phoebe?
Now was as good a time as any to figure that out once and for all.
Taking a deep breath, Peter kicked his shoes off and jumped to the ceiling to be at the level of the shelf. From this vantage point, he could see there were three spiders on three webs that were close enough to almost be one. They weren't nearly as large as Phoebe; only about an inch long. Then again, that was about as large as spiders got in Queens.
Peter took another few breaths before he spoke. "Hello there, gentlemen and/or ladies." He didn't bother saying anything about names because he was not about to name three more spiders.
The spiders stirred in their webs, but none of them said hello back, or anything for that matter. Peter was tempted to give up, then he remembered that Phoebe hadn't known any words before he spoke to her. What if these spiders just didn't know English? Maybe . . . maybe he should try using the mental message route he sometimes tried with Phoebe? He knew it did work, even through the door of his closet. Glancing at the ceiling, he wondered if it would even work through two floors, but he decided to focus on one experiment at a time.
"Hello," he whispered out loud just so he could concentrate on the specific thought of a greeting. "How are you?"
This time, feelings of confusion and distrust festered in Peter's mind, and he knew they came from the spiders. He unstuck one of his hands from the ceiling so he could pinch the bridge of his nose.
"Okay, thanks for helping me figure this out. I'm just going to—to ignore this now, probably. You three don't seem very talkative anyway."
Indistinct threats came from the spiders as they warned Peter to stay away.
Peter dropped down to the floor to grab the broom May had left. He held it at the ready until he realized that he couldn't simply squish the spiders now. He couldn't leave them down here either, or else May would eventually work up the courage to do it herself. Huffing, he looked around, grabbing an old jar from an open box nearby. He then jumped back onto the ceiling.
"Come with me if you want to live," Peter ordered, unable to suppress a grin. He did his best to send a mental image of the spiders crawling into the jar.
The threats started to become more distinct. It appeared as if they wanted to eat Peter alive.
"Aren't you just the nicest spiders I've ever met? Not. Phoebe is way more polite."
Moving quickly, Peter caught the three spiders. They weren't happy, which they made very clear, but it was better than leaving them to die. Peter then proceeded to sweep up the cobwebs. Out of the kindness of his heart, he searched the rest of the basement for spiders, finding and trapping a smaller one. He hoped the spiders didn't eat each other as he went back upstairs, hiding the jar behind his back.
"The basement is all clear," Peter reported to his aunt.
"Wonderful! Dinner will be ready soon, so go wash up," May said. She was still busy with her dough, cutting shapes into it.
"Are those cookies?"
"They're for a bake sale, but don't worry. I'll keep some for you."
"Thanks, May!"
"No problem at all."
Peter walked casually to the living room. Making sure he was out of sight, he opened a window and released the spiders outside. He counted all four, which was honestly a relief. Peter closed the window and walked away. Like the past few days, he wondered if he should leave his contacts in for dinner. But at this point his eyes were starting to feel irritated. He happily rubbed them out of his eyes as he entered the bathroom.
While he washed his hands, it occurred to him that he had been able to save a few lives even on his day off after all.
It was a shame he wouldn't be telling his aunt that. But Phoebe would probably appreciate it.
For the first time since Peter had begun shopping here a few days ago, there was a line at the checkout of Finbar's Peculiar Pet Emporium. The two oddly light and dark teenagers were back and were having a quiet conversation with Finbar. Despite how they had discussed keeping a low profile the first time Peter had seen them, they seemed to be pretty laid back around Finbar. Peter supposed it was because of how genial and easy to talk to the man was. It was quickly becoming apparent that he was the type of person who made friends very easily, or at least he thought he did. Peter had watched his one-sided conversation with an older man just the other night.
In all fairness, Peter had tried to respect Ty and Tandy's privacy (although it was telling that he had bothered to remember their names). However, he couldn't just wander around the store forever. After several minutes of hanging around the back, he went to the line. An older woman was there, and Peter let her go first, but he was now within earshot of the conversation.
". . . thought people usually chose cafés for this sort of thing," Finbar was saying.
"That's too public," Tandy explained politely. "That's why we were hoping to use the alley behind your shop this Tuesday night. I know you've already done a lot to help us out, but—"
"Say no more. Of course you can use my alley. S'not like I use it for much," Finbar chuckled. "It just seemed like an odd request."
"Thank you," Ty said. "Sorry for the trouble."
"No trouble at all! I've told you; I'm used to helping out the odd crowd from my days back in Ireland. And you two are much more polite than that girl, Valkyrie." Finbar's face darkened briefly.
"You're the best!" Tandy smiled brightly before Ty led her out of the shop. Finbar waved as he took the next customer.
Peter wondered why Ty and Tandy would ask to use an alley for . . . what? He almost wished he had heard the first half of the conversation. Sure, he had already decided that it was none of his business, but . . . that didn't stop him from wondering. An alley sounded quite suspicious. But there wasn't much time for Peter to think about that. It took only a few minutes more for Finbar to get to him.
"Hello, lad. Your spider has got some appetite I see," Finbar said as he scanned the four buckets.
"Yeah, she's a big one," Peter agreed distractedly, pushing his sunglasses up his nose. Even after almost a year without glasses, the habit was still as natural as breathing for him.
"You ought to get her live food someday. It'll keep her mind sharp."
"Someday soon, I guess."
"Squeamish around bugs?" Finbar asked knowingly.
Peter shrugged. "Not really. I guess I'm just not sure how to feed her live bugs yet," he admitted.
"Don't worry about it! Animals like spiders have it in their blood to hunt. She'll know what to do!"
It took some effort for Peter to keep his face blank. "Well, not everything is instinct. Some animals need to be taught."
"Not spiders, though. They're fairly low-maintenance in my opinion."
Now it was getting to be too much. Peter snorted. "Not my little spider."
Finbar smiled. "Fond of her, aren't ya?"
"Yeah, I guess I kind of am."
Peter left with a bag full of insects and a head full of thoughts. He had already read that spiders knew how to hunt from instinct, which worried him as much as it relieved him. On the plus side, it meant he wouldn't actually have to teach Phoebe anything. On the negative side, it meant she may be tempted to bite people regardless of what Peter taught her, especially if she grew to a point where her appetite demanded larger food than the tiny crickets.
There was also an idea nagging at him, an idea that maybe Peter was so good at catching bad guys because of an innate desire to hunt. But he didn't let himself think about that.
The real trouble was, Phoebe had proven she was unlike most other spiders. She could speak and was learning new things every day. It looked like the usual spider traits may not apply to her. And the differences were only exacerbated now that Peter had tried to speak to other spiders. Now he knew he could communicate with them, which was honestly kind of disturbing. But these other spiders didn't seem nearly as . . . deep as Phoebe. Their thoughts hadn't been any more complicated than 'my web, no touchy', and they hadn't tried to repeat any words Peter had said. So he supposed it was safe to assume that not all spiders were fully sentient.
All in all, that was good news for a variety of reasons. It meant he wouldn't feel obligated to take in anymore spiders. It also meant Phoebe really was a rare species from the Savage Lands who deserved to be taken back home. And it meant that Peter wouldn't be bombarded by spider gossip everywhere he went.
He had really been afraid of that last one to be honest.
But now he had finally tested the theory, and he knew there wasn't anything to worry about.
Well, at least not on the spider side of his life. Peter was finding himself more and more worried about Ty and Tandy. A memory was tickling at the back of his mind. Hadn't Fury said someone evil was recruiting young and enhanced individuals? He had only mentioned it in passing because it wouldn't be part of the team's missions, but this sure sounded like it could be a shady recruitment scheme . . .
Why did Peter always stumble upon the hard stuff?
Yet he didn't really know it was a shady recruitment. For all he knew, the two teenagers might be video game dealers. Maybe somebody didn't want people to know they wanted to buy Animal Crossing, hence the request for the back alley.
This was New York; you could find someone willing to deal just about anything here.
But, just to be safe, Peter decided he would come around again on Tuesday night. And maybe he would even try to talk to them. If they weren't interested in becoming superheroes, Shield had places to protect super powered individuals.
And at the rate he was going through crickets, he would probably need to restock by then anyway. So really it would be a win-win all around.
Pleased with his plan, Peter walked back home with a spring in his step, looking forward to another night of hanging out with Phoebe. Perhaps best of all, he could look forward to a day of patrol tomorrow. And on top of that, it was the weekend!
Life wasn't perfect for him right now, but he could still find ways to enjoy it.
